"Sorai, what are you looking at?", Miro rumbled, lashing his white-gold tail in curiousity.

"Nothing in particular."

Two dragons were perched on a ledge of marble and glass; one -- the male -- coloured gold and white and opal, his companion hued in white, blue, and silver. Similar, yet different in structure, of course; not all dragons are identical. Rulers of a small stretch of land in Senaerra, they were benevolent monarchs, dwelling in a palace of light and marble, glass and gems. Highly respected and loved, they thrived in their happy domain.

It was twilight, when stars began to pierce the the darkening veil of night and it was the blue rainbow of colour that had captivated Sorai-kelam. Her jaw gaped slightly at the sight and she swung her head to regard the crystal horn-crowned Divinelight dragon beside her.

"Isn't twilight the loveliest time?"

"I'd agree, but dawn is more colourful.", Miro replied, his gaze centered on the sky.

"Mmm."

They sat in silence for a time, aware of, but not hearing, the dull noise in the streets below their palace. It was in this silence, then, that an advisor decided to creep out onto the ledge to join them.

"Your Majesties?"

Sorai curled her neck, peering at their visitor with a curious expression. "Yes, Loriaen?"

The divine half-dragon bowed, his indigo and silver robes barely rustling. "There seems to be a disturbance in the flow of the Abyssal corrupt energies."

"Disturbances are remarkably common in the Pit, you know. That planet is a magnet for them.", Miro-syaess rumbled, although his curiousity was finally piqued.

"This is no minor disturbance.", Loriaen insisted, his features set in an expression of severe concern. "This is a resurrection of a dragon. A very *specific* dragon."

"Ghora-bazh? Surely you must be joking!", Sorai's voice had gone from powerful queen to a breathless gasp. "Please tell me it's a terrible joke!"

But Loriaen could only shake his head. "It is no joke. Ghora-bazh is being resurrected ... he might even already be awake now. And that means he will be searching for an army of his kind to start travelling across the lands of the Abyss."

"And Senaerra will be next on his list, once he's finished. I see.", Miro clicked his talons on the marble floor in irritation. "Not good."

"None of our armies could stop him last time, Miro. I ... I can't ever forget that sight.", Sorai's eyes glittered with sudden tears as visions of the terror Ghora-bazh wreaked on his world and Senaerra flickered through her mind. "How will we stop him now that he's one of the cursed?"

"Ilu. Ilu and the True Phoenix. That is how they stopped him last time. You remember that ... don't you?", Loriaen murmured, tilting his head slightly.

"But they are legends, Loriaen. Legends pass from life into divinity and are untouchable from then on. They've done their task.", Miro sounded resigned as he spoke the words, his eyes glazing over briefly.

"Who says that a legend cannot be called upon again?", the half-dragon's voice rose a notch in defiance and he stepped forward. "Who says it cannot be done again?"

In a tired voice, the kind reserved for children, Sorai answered. "Because the True Phoenix is always shifting form, always dying and being born as someone or something different. With our luck, it is probably an ancient oak on Aranas." She turned her gaze to Loriaen, her eyes gone dull as if lost in memory. "And of the great angel Ilu ... I know nothing of his end. I've heard Ghora-bazh slew him and that he has joined the One."

"There are other legends and stories, too. If you won't believe that legends can be reborn, Majesties, then I'll go find them myself.", and with that, Loriaen turned and left, his eyes glittering with anger.

Moments later, another half-dragon arrived, her robes coloured red and gold. "Majesties?"

"Yes, what is it now, Caeli?", Miro snapped, one wing unfurled over Sorai's shuddering back. The dragoness was sobbing as silently as she could, but that didn't stop her body from trembling as if electrified.

The half-dragoness bowed apologetically. "There is a chance that we can stop them. But we need another kind of dragon. Our kind and yours, Majesties, are not designed for handling the undead. But. There might be another world which has dragons like that; at least, a slim chance."

"And what world would that be, then?"

"I don't have a name, Greatsire, but I do have images of such a location. Recently, there were many dragons which have mated," Caeli found her pallid scales reddening despite herself, "and through an unusual process called 'bonding', these dragons find partners. It would be quite beneficial to have such dragons, to create an army which needed no real discipline. It is my understanding that these dragons will obey their bond-mates without question."

Sorai lifted her head and looked at Miro, astonished at the idea. "They'd pick us, do you think?", she mused.

"I do not know, Greatdam. It seems to be like the luck of the draw. Perhaps we should only pick the finest we have to send there. I would willingly offer myself up for such an experiment.", Caeli bowed again, her nose almost touching the ground.

"Hm. I will do so as well.", Miro-syaess seemed bemused by the concept. "If only to see just what it is. If you are correct, then these dragons might be able to do what we cannot ... they seem alien enough to do it."

"And I, too. Anything to try and save our empire and those around us.", Sorai looked to Miro again. "Are there any others we should consider?"

"This should be more of a secret, I think. I do not know how many of these eggs there are and travelling to another world is bound to be problematic."

"True enough."

Caeli lifted her head suddenly. "Where did Loriaen go, perchance?"

"To find a pair of legends, the crazy fool.", Miro's temperament shifted to a fierce one, his eyes flashing a vivid red for a moment. "He didn't listen to us, of course. If you find him, return him here."

"Yes, Greatsire.", then Caeli was gone, in search of her fellow advisor.

In the silence that followed, Miro and Sorai could only look at each other, utterly still in the cool evening air.